Faction Ashen Corridor | Crimson Dawn [ME] Public Operations

[Icy]

OPERATION: ASHEN CORRIDOR

Aeten II Asteroid Field – Fringe Desert Port
OPEN TO ALL CRIMSON DAWN OPERATIVES
​

In the aftermath of the Diarchy’s humiliating defeat at Yaga Minor, the power structure they once relied upon has fractured. From that fracture, something uglier has crawled out.​

​

They call themselves The Diarch’s Hand.​

​

They are not a formal remnant government, nor a disciplined military. They are a splinter syndicate — zealots and warlords who believe the chaos left behind is an invitation. Their goal is not revenge. It is profit. Influence. Territory.​

​

Intelligence confirms that the Hand has moved into the Aeten II asteroid field, well outside Mandalorian jurisdiction. They have landed at a fringe desert port under armed escort, offloading heavy crates and fortified equipment. Their intention is clear: establish a rival smuggling corridor before Crimson Dawn can react.​

​

If they succeed, they will create competition along routes we intend to dominate. If we move quickly, we do not just stop them; we inherit their foothold.​

​

This is not simply a raid. It is an opportunity to expand.​

***

Operational Objectives:​

Spoiler

ARRIVE BEFORE FULL UNLOAD

Speed is critical. The Hand has not yet completed unloading their cargo. Once their crates are fully transferred and their perimeter defenses established, removing them becomes far more complicated.​

​

Strike while they are vulnerable. Disrupt their crews. Prevent heavy weapon emplacements from being properly installed. The less time they have to settle, the less blood we will need to spill.​

​

DISABLE THEIR SHIP

Their freighter is their lifeline. It is how they retreat, resupply, and project power into surrounding systems.​

​

Ion damage, sabotage, or targeted strikes against engines and hyperdrive systems are preferred. If the vessel can be captured intact, it becomes an asset to Dawn. If that proves impossible, it must at least be rendered immobile.​

​

Destruction is permitted only if no alternative remains.​

ELIMINATE ARMED RESISTANCE

The Diarch’s Hand travels with hardened enforcers. Expect military-grade blasters, repeating cannons, and organized defensive tactics. Reports suggest at least one Force-sensitive zealot embedded among their leadership.​

​

Command figures and elite fighters are priority targets. Break their chain of command, and the rest will falter.​

​

Labor crews and non-combatants are not the focus. This is a surgical removal of opposition, not a massacre.​

​

SECURE CARGO & CREW

The crates they are unloading are believed to contain weapons, spice shipments, encrypted financial records, and possibly droid components. Every crate is potential leverage.​

​

High-value materials must be secured. Officers should be captured when possible for interrogation and intelligence extraction. Lower-tier operatives may prove recruitable under the right pressure.​

​

Everything they brought here to empower themselves should instead strengthen Crimson Dawn.​

​

Spoiler: Tag

Kurayami Bloodborn
Alden Akaran
Kael Varr
Hrist
Vael Saren
Elian Abrantes
Serrik Skirata
@Astella Verd
Quinn Varanin
Ivalyn Yvarro
Rowyna Galeway
Xerxes Verd
Tessa Thayne
Mia Monroe
Azen Kast
Cyran Vaas
@Cabur Nau'ur
@Kotak Vikar'Ranov
Avast Verd
Pal Veda
Dral Kar'taal
Reina Daival
Eenia Vahn
Adelle Bastiel
Nianuke cyt
Zurak Bruul
@Ajalurk-Chaidth Kryze
@Arden Priest
Vantis Saxon
Edward Ashcard
Persephone Halcyon
Inez
Mar Skirata
Korda Veydran
Sula Skirata
Sidonia
Maur
Ferris Skirata
Veyla Krinn
Renn Vizsla
Perseus
Hubert Starhopper
erida Lok
Drexan Ordo
Ryzen Vord
Amelia von Sorenn
Zet Reav
Acier Moonbound
@Colden Renth
@Domina Prime
Shot Sutaz
Drystan Creed
Kyor "Mute" Jaeirr
Brent Warnel
Vahlika Velhaari
Hilal Vizsla
Sibylla Abrantes
Alyvia Toss
Vanadium
Platinum
Electrum
Elira Verd
@Viera
Nando
Tin
@Serra Toss
Ranna Sejast
Aiden Wolf
Palladium
Songsteel
Alara Ordo
Minerva Fhirdiad
Aadihr Lidos
Azurine Varek
Kayte Toss
Lynn Caromed
Fabula Caromed
Is'ekapi Rex
Dreidi Xeraic
Grym Lok
Skye Mertaal
Zee Caromed
Rheyla Tann
Haken Ralo Bolt
Ginjako Brorai
Maiz Tor'val
Xasin Dyst
Sanguina Krev
Svidur Galaar
Vaux Gred
Mig Gred
Edrick Aethelred
Tarre Priest
Cerar Vizsla
Kassandra Beskar'ad
Kad'irk'Ra
Janous Ryss
Liorra
Tyr Mereel
Conrad
Aren D'Shade
Zel Sharratt
Korra Kast
Whottoomuzz Chantin
Reshim
Red Mobius
Emilia Locke
Athena Faar
Thalira Kiing
Vulcan Krayt
Delsin Shaw
Montello Deshra
Adonis Angelis IV
Siv Kryze
Jaikell Wyrvhor
Itzhal Volkihar
Valah Hagen
Vytal Noctura
Suleiman Lok
@Kyrida Verd
Jiriad Galaar
Kandosii Ka'rta
Manti Wyrvhor
Mia Monroe
Ladante Mamba
raef Malstadt
Ciri Jade
Lunara Azure
Kirae Orade
Ro'talius Emanti
Alora Vizsla
Zhulghua
Kalðr Ísbjørn
Cordelia Malkavian
Drego Ruus
"Templar"
CT-312
Tomaj Eldar
Rhys Swynol
Lysara Rynn
Nephthys Nardithi-Verd
Hanna
Siae Andronike
Zlova Rue
Runi Kuryida
@Ren Ashbridge
Aliza Vale
Thram Drokor
Sagan Verd
Ze'bast Verd
Vyse de Valorous
@Varuun Rekaal
Kuben Woods
Valeria de la Vallée
Lyra Scarlet
Talohn Atar
Incitrix
Klavatora Verd
Aselia Verd

 

[Sidonia]

The desert port of Aeten II had never been meant for history.

It was a place for quiet transactions and forgotten ships, for deals struck beneath patched awnings while dust rolled in off the dunes and settled into everything. A place where transponders were “misread,” manifests were “misplaced,” and credits spoke louder than law.

Tonight, it held its breath.

From the upper balcony of the primary docking tower, Sidonia stood with her hands clasped behind her back, black-and-gold armor catching the muted glow of the port’s floodlights. Her longsword sat on her hip, ready for her command.

Below, the freighter of the Diarch’s Hand crouched on the landing pad like a carrion bird, its hull scarred, its insignia half-scraped away. Armed escorts moved in disciplined patterns as heavy crates were lowered onto repulsor lifts and guided toward the warehouses. They were efficient. Organized and confident.

“They chose the wrong horizon,” Sidonia said quietly.

Around her, Crimson Dawn operatives waited in the shadows of the tower interior; smugglers, enforcers, slicers, blades-for-hire who had sworn themselves to the syndicate’s rising banner. Some wore armor. Others wore civilian jackets and easy smiles. All of them understood what this moment meant.

Aeten II was beyond Mandalorian borders. No empire would claim it. No patrol would rush to defend it. That made it valuable.

“The Diarch’s Hand believes that defeat at Yaga Minor fractured authority,” she continued, her gaze never leaving the unloading crews below. “They are correct. What they misunderstand is who benefits from that fracture.”

A crate hit the ground too hard, metal clanging across the pad. One of the Hand’s overseers barked an order. Blaster rifles shifted on shoulders. The perimeter was tightening as more cargo cleared the hold.

Time was running out.

Sidonia finally turned to face her people. There was no raised voice, no theatrical flourish. Her authority lay in certainty.

“They intend to establish a corridor through this asteroid field. They intend to compete.”

A faint, humorless smile touched her lips.

“They will not.”

She stepped toward the railing, resting one gloved hand upon the cool metal as if already claiming it.

“Strike before they finish unloading. Disable their freighter. I want that ship intact if possible. Command figures are priority targets. Break their spine, and the rest will fold.”

Her eyes swept across the assembled operatives, measuring them not as subordinates but as instruments.

“Keep civilian casualties to zero. This port will be functional by morning. The merchants below will wake to a new protector, not a ruin. Suppress outgoing transmissions. No prolonged firefight. We end this before anyone beyond this field realizes it began.”

Down on the pad, another crate descended from the freighter’s cargo hold. Armed escorts shifted again, unaware of the eyes upon them.

Sidonia reached to her hip and clipped her buy’ce into place, the black visor sealing with a soft hiss. When she spoke again, her voice carried through the helmet’s modulator; calm, controlled, inevitable.

“Take their cargo. Take their officers. Offer the rest a choice. By sunrise, Aeten II belongs to Crimson Dawn.”

She stepped back into shadow, already moving toward the access lift that would carry her down to the level of sand and blasterfire.

“Move.”​

 

[Ashé Fenn]

Location:
Objectives:l: Participate with the Crimson Dawn
Tags: Sidonia

This was Ashé's first mission with Sidonia's Crimson Dawn, to intercept and defeat some smugglers, a simple enough premise but one with all manner of strands that reached out through the fates of various dimensions. There was a man, tall and with cropped hair that had chatted to her during the hyperspace trip. By his manner he had entertained the idea of her as a romantic paramore, he had complemented her hair, her eyes and even told her he found her detached demeanour "enchanting". It was a pity he would die today, she had known that before he let him take her. Perhaps that is why she had done it, perhaps she was bored, maybe she simply wanted to. Either way, it changed nothing and he entered this engagement not knowing he had sampled his very last pleasures.

Ashé half listened to Sidonia as she gave her speech but too much of her focus was now in path space, looking for hidden roots into their objectives, she intended to disable their ship, she foresaw one death in her near future, not by her own hands, but caused directly by her actions, exactly how was twisted to her which meant it was not yet written. "There" she said to herself as she found a narrow path, no thicker than a hair that wound its way into the engine room of the cargo vessel. But its ingress point was not here, it was a little distance beyond them, so she had her first objective.

She nodded to Sidonia . She knew things about her future too, but as with many of these things she had no inclination to share.

 

[Charlana]

Tag: Sidonia Ashé Fenn

Charlana had arrived early with some others, eager to answer the call and ingrain herself into the Dawn. She had been on her own long enough, and wished to find a place suitable for her needs, and wanting of her skills. Meeting this threat to the dominance of the Crimson Dawn along the space lanes was sure to get her established.

The nefarious smuggler stood idly some distance from the blue-haired Matriarch of Crimson Dawn. The elegant woman, in her immaculate armor and austere posture, was a far cry from the half-Sephi former pirate, clad in stained and tarnished mismatched armor and garments. Seldonia Veyl had presence, Charlana would give her that. Charlana sniffed, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. The desert air made her air passages dry.

Pale blue eyes darted around at others, new to her. One caught her attention almost immediately. So pale she was literally white, with long braids like her own, but in a collection of white and black. The woman had a curious lack of color, and stunning features. But there was more to her. The woman's eyes focused on something beyond where they stood, even beyond the freighter below. Charlana felt it in the Force. The Umbaran was different than anyone she had come across. The Force adept couldn't put a finger on what it was, but it smacked of something most otherworldly. Intriuged, Charlana moved closer as the gathered operatives dissolved to cause their chaos. She was a former pirate and knew her way around a ship. She would make her way to the freighter. Perhaps the monochromatic stranger was as well.

 

[Colton Renth]

]​

The hyperdrive whined down to a simmer as the illegally modified YT-1300F Shadow Hawk slipped from hyperspace at the edge of the Yaga system. Captain Colton Renth leaned back in the pilot’s chair, boots resting on a console panel that had definitely never come standard from Corellian Engineering Corporation.

Tall, medium build, brown hair cropped short and a neatly kept horseshoe mustache framing a perpetual smirk, Colton looked more like a disgraced Republic officer than one of the Outer Rim’s most audacious smugglers. But that was the advantage. People underestimated him.

They rarely did so twice. The Yaga system still bore the scars of the recent Mandalorian victory at Yaga Minor. The Mandalorian Empire had shattered the region’s ruling structure — a fractured power network known as the Diarchy. One of its splinter syndicates, the Diarch’s Hand, had fled deeper into the system with what remained of their war chest.

Colton’s contacts said the Hand was transporting: Diarchy banking codes, Weapons, and Crates of contraband spice. The problem? Normally the Hand fielded gunships, escort fighters, and overlapping sensor nets.

The opportunity? They hadn’t rebuilt yet.

No perimeter mines.
No picket ships.
No overlapping scans.

The Shadow Hawk was technically a YT-1300F light freighter, but only on paper.

Compared to stock models, Colton’s ship had:

Reinforced ventral armor plating

Military-grade sensor scramblers

Twin quad laser cannons on independent rotation

A heavily modified hyperdrive with an illegal Class 0.75 override

Hidden smuggling compartments beneath the deck plating

The ship still carried the proud silhouette made famous by vessels of the same line — similar in make to the legendary freighters flown across the galaxy — but Colton’s was quieter, meaner, and built for surgical theft rather than flashy heroics.

He preferred it that way.

The Shadow Hawk powered down to near-silence as it drifted through the debris field. Broken station fragments and shattered hull plating gave perfect cover.

[

​

 

[Sidonia]

Sidonia did not miss much.

Not the subtle shift in posture as operatives dispersed. Not the way tension rolled through the group like the inhale before a blade struck. And certainly not the currents in the Force that prickled faintly at the edge of her awareness — thin threads tugging at possibility.

"There" she said to herself

Ashé's quiet murmur reached her even through the low wind that moved across the balcony. Sidonia's visor tilted slightly toward the pale woman.

"Take your path," she said evenly. There was no question in it, no need for explanation. "Engine room access. Cut power before they realize they are bleeding."

She stepped closer, her presence measured rather than imposing. "Whatever death you foresee, ensure it belongs to them." There was no cruelty in her tone. Only expectation.

As the operatives began filtering toward their assigned ingress points, Sidonia's gaze shifted to the half-Sephi pirate lingering near the edge of the assembly.

Charlana .

The woman's armor was mismatched, worn by experience rather than ceremony. Good. Those who had survived the fringes tended to understand what was at stake when territory shifted hands.

"You know freighters, I presume" Sidonia said without hesitation, stepping beside her so their attention remained on the ship below. "You know the blind corridors. The crew choke points. The panic patterns."

Her visor turned slightly, reflective black meeting pale blue.

"Board from starboard maintenance access. The rest is up to you what you’d like to do. The only thing you must keep in mind is: officers alive if possible.

Sidonia paused before continuing “You will be helping build the Dawn after this.” She did not wait for affirmation. Confidence, not encouragement, was the currency she offered.

Then, there was a flicker.

Her attention snapped outward, beyond the port, beyond the immediate perimeter of the asteroid field. A sensor blip ghosted across the edge of their tactical display; faint, careful, riding debris cover.

"Unidentified vessel entering from the Yaga vector. Minimal emissions. Likely modified light freighter. Do not broadcast challenge. I want a passive read."

Her mind moved quickly. A scavenger? A competitor? Or someone who believed chaos made for easy theft?

The Shadow Hawk drifted like a predator testing the edge of another's territory. Sidonia's voice flowed calmly across Crimson Dawn's encrypted comms. "We have a third party in the field. Unknown allegiance. Assume opportunistic intent."

Her head angled toward the freighter below where the Hand's men continued unloading crates, blissfully unaware that they were no longer the only hunters present.

"No one fires on the newcomer unless fired upon. If they move on the Hand's cargo, we intercept. If they move on us…"

A faint hum underlined her words as her gauntlet's systems activated.

"…we remind them this corridor is spoken for."

Territory was not claimed by ambition. It was claimed by the one willing to act first; and finish last.

Ashé Fenn Charlana Colton Renth

 

[Colton Renth]

Colton studied the tactical display. The Diarch's Hand cargo vessel drifted lazily near Yaga Minor's debris ring, its transponder broadcasting a weakened encryption signature.
"Cocky," he muttered. "Or desperate."
Either worked for him.
The plan was simple:

1. Drift in cold using passive thrusters.
2. Slice the cargo hauler's docking protocols.
3. Seal their communications array before they could signal reinforcements.
4. Extract high-value cargo only — no greed, no lingering.

Colton wasn't a pirate. Pirates stayed too long.
He was a professional.
The victory of the Mandalorian Empire had left the system in chaos. Warships still patrolled the outer lanes, and stray Mandalorian scouts hunted for surviving Diarchy loyalists.
If they caught him mid-heist, they wouldn't care who he worked for.
To them, he'd just be another opportunist feeding on the aftermath of conquest.
Colton grinned.
"Let 'em try."
The Shadow Hawk powered down to near-silence as it drifted through the debris field. Broken station fragments and shattered hull plating gave perfect cover.
The Diarch's Hand cargo ship loomed ahead — engines idling, shields at minimal power. Their arrogance was understandable. They had bigger enemies to fear.
They hadn't factored in Colton Renfth.
His fingers danced across the console as he began slicing their docking handshake.
"Just business," he murmured.
The docking clamps extended.
Green light.
The cargo was his.
Somewhere beyond the system's edge, Mandalorian patrol ships shifted formation.
But inside the shadows of Yaga Minor's wreckage, Captain Colton Renfth prepared to carve a fortune from the ruins of a shattered syndicate — silent, precise, and gone before anyone realized the galaxy had just become slightly poorer.
And he, considerably richer.

Sidonia

 

[Ashé Fenn]

Location:
Objectives:l: Participate with the Crimson Dawn
Tags: Sidonia Charlana Colton Renth

It begins. Ashé took a few steps and then began to pick her way lightly down the bluff towards the path, moving lightly and with grace in her black attire. Her consort followed her, a submachine gun in hand. She thought to tell him that she needed no protection for this, but she knew it would not deter him. Congress had made her his, and he would protect her. Silly man.

The umbaran was reaching the bottom of the slope now and felt her path self beckoning her forth. She was there, in a cloud of most she dissipated from the material realm only coalescing again in the darkened space of the engine room. It was cramped, it smelled like coaxium and body odour, not unlike many of the engine rooms she had entered in the Black Sun.

The planeswalker was alone but she knew it would not be for long, she knew what she had to find. She wouldnt destroy the ship, or even damage it, if it survived the firefight, it would be a valuable asset to, someone. She ran her fingers across the coaxium injector and popped open a panel. The lights briefly flickered as she removed a couple of circuit breakers and the ship switched to emergency batteries. The engines would not help them escape their defeat any more.

"3...2...1..."

"Oi! What are you doing in here!" a voice yelled at her from behind and she turned towards an older looking man holding a revolver.

"Funny, thing isn't it. You've come in here wondering about the lights, but now you are wondering how I got in here.

You are wondering if I know your gun isnt loaded, and now you are wondering how I know that?

Want to know how you die?...."

The man started shaking "Your one of them... witches? Right."

She just gave a coy shrug and ran her hands across the engine manifold leaving a trail of lingering smoke.

"Please let me tell you, its very soon."

"Fuck that, keep that Ichor crap to yourself they ain't paying me enough..." he hurriedly left the engine room and took flight down the corridor and onto the loading ramp.

"You! Where you going, back to your station!" one of the guards yelled.

"Nah, screw that... you can keep the cargo and your wit...." he didnt finish his sentence. As he turned to speak he misjudged the slippery edge of the loading ramp where the antislip matts had worn away. He spun as ge slipped and with a sickening crunch the side of his skull impacted one of the metal support struts of the vessel, cracking his skull and leaving him lying in a crumpled heap at its base with spittle collecting in his mouth.

Ashé casually placed the circuit boards into her coat and smiled while she planned her next move.

 

[Charlana]

Tag: Sidonia Ashé Fenn Colton Renth

Charlana sensed the Matriarch draw near. A sidelong glance affirmed the smartly uniformed woman was close. There was a delicious darkness emanating from the statuesque Sidonia.

"Mhmmm." The half-Sephi acknowledged Sidonia's assumption about Charlana's knowledge of ship layouts. "I know that ship's stock deck plan." The former-pirate confirmed. Experience in boarding ships provided a good working knowledge of many ship designs. Having to deal with their crews also left her with experience in the things Sidonia mentioned, like choke-points, paths traveled to weapon emplacements and armories as well as means to escape.

Charlana accepted the Matriarch's limited instructions. Where to access the ship, and a reminder about officers. That one chafed a bit. Unbridled violence was much easier than restraint. Destruction was also discouraged. But she would abide. Sidonia's assurance of full acceptance into the Dawn was motive enough. It was as if the mysterious woman could read her mind. Disable the ship, capture officers... got it.

Peeling off, Charlana made her way to the landing pad perimeter. Pools of shadow aided her progress, toying with minds helped distract the armed patrols. Pale blue eyes slitted to survey the vessel. locating the hatch she would enter. Charlana would have to clear the open space between her cover on the perimeter and the ship. There were fewer people on that side, making it a bit easier. the biggest threat were a pair of armed thugs.

Summoning some mischief, Charlana created an illusion in their minds. A malfunctioning protocol droid staggered out, wobbling as if drunk. Its arms flailed as it babbled unitelligibly. Sparks spit from its joints. Distracted, the guards hesitantly approached the droid...that wasn't really there. Charlana jogged quietly across the space until she was in the shadow of the ship under the starboard maintanance access. Opening the hatch, she ended the illusion in a smokey sputtering. When cleared, the droid was gone.

And so was Charlana. She crept into the maintenance crawlspace towards a point where she could access a side corridor.

 

[Colton Renth]

Twin suns were sinking into the dust-choked horizon of Aeten II when a freighter ghosted out of the upper atmosphere. The battered hull of his illegally modified YT-1300 light freighter drifted in from the dark side of the planet, its running lights dark and its sensor signature smothered beneath layers of aftermarket dampening grids. The ship looked like a common cargo hauler—circular hull, offset cockpit, engine band glowing a dull blue—but beneath the plating, it was anything but common.
Colton sat in the cockpit, boots resting casually on the edge of the console, one hand guiding the yoke while the other adjusted a sensor baffle. The glow of the instruments reflected in his brown eyes, catching the edge of his neatly kept goatee.
"Easy… easy," he muttered to the ship.
He threaded the freighter between the towers at low power, letting the sandstorms that whipped across the port mask his approach. His sensors painted the structure ahead in amber wireframe.
Docking Tower Three.
Ring Seven.
Empty.
"Lucky me."
Colton Renth barely blinked.
The docking ring loomed ahead, a circular framework of durasteel arms and magnetic clamps jutting from the tower's spine. Wind howled through the open structure, carrying clouds of sand that rattled against the freighter's hull like distant blaster fire.
He cut the engines to a whisper.
The ship drifted the last few meters on inertia alone.
"Hold together, sweetheart," he said softly to the freighter.
The clamps engaged with a heavy THUNK.
Green lights flashed across the control panel.
Docking complete.
Colton readied to make his stealth approach to the main hub of the tower and begin reliving The Diarch's Hand of their cargo, and use his skill in this high-stakes heist to earn his way into the crimson dawn.

Charlana Ashé Fenn Sidonia
Charlana Sidonia Alora Vizsla

 

[Alora Vizsla]

"Okay, Gam, what's the over/under on the Mandalorian Empire bulldozing their way back through this system and messing up our job prospects? You know, like how the Enclave was constantly eradicating established ports of call and ruining otherwise stable, reliable, and totally not-murdery partners." Alora stood in the belly of her heavily customized VT-88 that was both home and best friend. As was her custom, she was already wearing her armor and had just popped the helmet on in preparation. Mechanic bay was free of clutter, which meant she was good to go.

"Considering the information we acquired..."

Yeah, some interesting movements. Not just with the Mandalorians either.

"Well, I think it's time we introduced ourselves, Gam. Maybe they'll be one of those reliable partner types. Could always use some of those. Not the highest paying clients, but stability keeps the cybernetics flowing." Which was largely where all the money went from her illicit ventures. Cutting edge cybernetics weren't cheap, or easy to come by. Not to mention making sure Gam had the latest gear to stay ahead of developments in sensor technology. Still couldn't fix the visible-in-atmo problem though. Cloaking devices had tells, and the point of Gambit's design was 'no tells.'

"Which reminds me, Alora..."

Yeah, she knew. Gam wasn't a war ship.

"...stay safe."

Now Gambit was just messing with her. Well, Gam meant it too.

As the ventral bay doors slid open, Alora stood at the edge of the opening with her honey-brown eyes peering down at the rich target below. "Always. Keep a light on for me." With that, she hopped out and started to plunge toward the freighter. Gambit would sail by high above to minimize its visual profile; hopefully appear as little more than passing traffic at a very safe distance -- which suited Gam just fine.

OPEN​

 

[Sidonia]

The moment the freighter’s engines died, Sidonia felt it.

Not just through the tactical readouts flickering across her visor, but through the subtle shift in the battlefield itself; the way confusion spread like cracks in glass. Reactor output dropped sharply. Propulsion systems fell silent. The vessel belonging to the Diarch’s Hand flickered to emergency power.

Ashé had done her work.

“Engines are down,” Sidonia said calmly across Crimson Dawn’s encrypted channel as the lift doors opened onto the lower docking level. Her boots touched the durasteel floor with a measured step while desert wind dragged sand across the open pad beyond.

Below, the Hand had begun to notice something was wrong.

Cargo cranes froze mid-lift. A technician shouted toward the freighter’s hull. Armed escorts shifted positions, uncertain whether the failure was mechanical or sabotage.

“Boarding teams advance,” she ordered. “Command elements will attempt to regroup inside the ship now that they’ve lost propulsion. Do not give them the time.”

Her visor angled slightly toward the starboard side of the vessel.

Charlana’s entry point.

“Maintenance access confirmed. Continue internal sweep. Officers alive if practical.” Then another signal appeared across her tactical overlay.

Docking clamps engaging. Sidonia stopped mid-step. Docking Tower Three. Ring Seven.

The quiet freighter she had detected earlier had not retreated from the field. It had docked. She watched the feed update for a moment; the outline of a light freighter latched quietly against the tower’s outer ring, emissions minimal, approach careful. Whoever flew it understood stealth.

Her lips curved into a smirk behind the buy’ce.

“Our observer has decided to become a participant,” she said over the channel. A nearby pair of Dawn enforcers straightened as her attention shifted toward the tower corridor leading to the docking ring. “Unknown pilot. Light freighter class. Likely attempting independent cargo theft. He believes he arrived unnoticed.”

Her gaze drifted briefly back to the landing pad just as a man tumbled from the freighter’s loading ramp and struck a support strut with a sickening crack. Panic had already begun to ripple through the Hand’s personnel.

“Minimal resistance outside,” she continued. “Their leadership will consolidate inside the vessel. That is where this ends.”

Ashé was already within the ship. Charlana would be there shortly.

Perfect.

Sidonia shifted to a narrowband transmission directed toward the docking ring.

“Unidentified freighter pilot,” she transmitted calmly, her voice carrying quiet authority across the open channel. “You dock quietly. You slice carefully. You move like a professional.”

A short pause.

“Which means you already know you walked into someone else’s operation.” On the pad below, Crimson Dawn operatives began moving openly now, slipping between crates and cargo lifters as the Hand’s perimeter faltered.

“You have two choices,” Sidonia continued “Leave your ship where it sits and walk away with your life.” Another pause. “Or come downstairs and earn your share.”

She cut the transmission before waiting for an answer.

***​

But the battlefield was not done delivering surprises.

A new alert flashed across the upper layers of her tactical feed; not from the tower, but from high above the port. A ship had passed through the atmosphere moments ago. Sensors had barely registered it before it climbed again, minimizing its profile. And now…A descending figure.

Sidonia looked up through the open framework of the docking tower.

Against the fading light of Aeten II’s sinking twin suns, a lone armored figure cut through the sky, dropping toward the freighter like a meteor.

Another opportunist or another professional? Her voice returned to the Dawn channel, calm as ever.

“We have a second arrival. Single armored individual descending from an atmospheric pass. Source vessel maintaining distance.”

A faint shift of her helmet followed the falling silhouette.

“Either this system has suddenly become fashionable,” she murmured dryly, “or someone else believes the Hand’s cargo is free for the taking.”

Her tone hardened slightly.

“Adjust accordingly. Unknown arrivals are not hostiles unless they make themselves so.” Sidonia rested a gauntleted hand on the railing overlooking the chaos beginning to unfold below.

Blaster fire cracked across the port as the first real fighting erupted near the cargo ramps. Crimson Dawn operatives moved in, using the confusion to close distance. Members of the Hand scrambled to form a defensive line, shouting orders that arrived seconds too late.

Inside the freighter, the situation would already be deteriorating. Ashé had crippled their engines. Charlana was moving through their corridors.

Soon the bridge would fall. Sidonia keyed the internal channel again “Interior teams, report when the bridge is secured.”

Then she stepped away from the railing and began walking toward the tower access corridor; the one that led to Docking Ring Seven.

Toward the smuggler who had quietly attached his ship to her operation. If he wanted a share of the spoils, he would need to show himself. And if he didn’t…

Her voice cut across the open channel once more, directed not just to him, but to anyone listening in the growing chaos. “The freighter is ours. Anyone aboard who wishes to keep breathing would be wise to choose their next action carefully.”

Sidonia stopped at the corridor entrance, the dim lights stretching into shadow ahead of her. Then she waited…for the smuggler to emerge and for the falling mercenary to land. For the battle inside the freighter to reach its inevitable conclusion.

“Let’s see,” she said quietly, almost to herself, “who intends to work with Crimson Dawn…”

Her helmet tilted slightly toward the ship below as another burst of blaster fire echoed across the landing pad. “…and who intends to test it.”

​

Tag: Ashé Fenn Charlana Colton Renth Alora Vizsla ​

 

[Tobi Fett]

.​

TAKE THE BRIDGE​

​

The freighter loomed over the dock like a sleeping beast, its loading ramps down while workers and guards moved crates under the wash of harsh floodlights. From a distance it looked routine—cargo in, cargo out. Tobi didn't buy routine. He crouched along the upper gantry overlooking the port, helmet angled toward the ship as the rest of the operation began to stir around the facility. People were moving faster now. Security shifting positions. The kind of subtle tension that meant things were about to stop being quiet.


"Alright," he muttered to himself, tapping the side of his helmet. "Bridge duty. Easy enough."


He dropped from the gantry to a lower support beam and then again to the edge of the landing platform with practiced ease. His boots barely made a sound when they touched the metal decking. Closer now, the freighter was louder—engines idling low, loading crews shouting over the hum while guards kept half an eye on the work. None of them were looking up. That worked perfectly for him.


Tobi slipped across the edge of the dock, keeping to the shadows cast by stacked cargo pallets until he reached the base of the loading ramp. Two guards stood near the entry hatch, rifles slung low, bored more than alert. He leaned around the corner of a crate and tilted his head. "Hey guys," he murmured quietly to no one in particular. "Quick question..."


The first guard looked up just in time to see the butt of Tobi's blaster come down across his helmet. The second barely had time to react before a quick stun bolt dropped him beside his partner. Tobi stepped over them like they were an inconvenience someone else had left behind.


"Thanks," he said anyway, heading inside.


The freighter's interior corridors were narrow and utilitarian, lit by strips of dim white light that hummed faintly along the ceiling. Cargo crew passed further down the hall, unaware that two of their security detail were now unconscious outside. Tobi moved the opposite direction. Up. Bridge access was always up.


He followed the internal ladder well toward the command deck, pausing halfway to listen. Voices filtered down from above—two, maybe three people on the bridge. Good. That meant command staff were already where they needed to be. Tobi climbed the rest of the way slowly, careful not to rattle the ladder as he reached the hatch leading to the command level.


He rested one hand on the control panel and cracked the door open just enough to peek inside. Three officers. One at the navigation console. One standing near the viewport. One leaning over the central command terminal arguing about something Tobi couldn't quite hear.


Perfect.


Tobi pushed the hatch open and stepped through like he belonged there.


"Okay," he said casually, raising a hand. "Nobody panic."


Three heads turned at once.


"This is a temporary management change," he added helpfully.


The officer near the console reached for his sidearm.


Tobi sighed. "Ah—see, that's exactly the kind of reaction I was hoping we could avoid."


The stun bolt hit the man square in the chest before he could draw. The second officer froze halfway through standing, while the third looked like he was still trying to process what was happening. Tobi leveled the blaster across the room.


"Bridge is closed," he said simply. "Union rules."


The silence that followed suited him just fine. He stepped further inside, already glancing over the control panels.


Command deck secured.


Now the rest of the operation could start getting interesting

 

[Charlana]

​

Tag: Sidonia Ashé Fenn Colton Renth Alora Vizsla

Objective: Disable hyperdrive

Charlana was not one to be subtle, and once in the freighter, she strode down the corridors as if she owned them, vibrosaber in hand. Sidonia had announced Ashe's success in taking down the engines. Charlana scowled, a bit jealous she didn't get to them first. The beautiful creepy Umbaran's success was confirmed by an alert that the ship had switched to emergency power. Charlana's next stop would be to disable the hyperdrives, in case the Hand got their engines back online.

Rounding a corner, she encountered two crewmen rushing to respond. Neither were officers...they didn't meet Sidonia's instructions on survivors. Before either knew what happened, the pirate's humming blade swing and the both slumped to the deck, heads and bodies falling separate ways.

"Hmmph." She harrumphed as she looked down, stepped over them and continued on her way. Descending to the Engineering Deck, Charlana found the hyperdrive. The doorway was open, a Chiss officer and Rodian mechanic were arguing inside, oblivious to the intruder. She could tell one was an officer, because he was dressed neatly and not covered in grime. He also had a hat that just seemed to scream he was in charge of something. Charlana ducked back out of sight, sheathed her vibrosaber, and focused on the Spirit to dull their minds. Then she walked in.

"We need to secure this area, intruders are boarding the ship." She said in a overly-performed matter-of-fact voice. Charlana had heard in her earpiece Sidonia's updates, and how operatives were boarding. Both men looked her, not surprised at her appearance, but at her announcement, thanks to the Force. "Frak, that's just perfect." The officer cursed, then narrowed his eyes as he looked over the strange woman. "Wait...who are you?"

Charlana's hand shot out, grabbing the Chiss by the back of the head and slammed it against the bulkhead. She attempted to use some restraint, in an effort to only render him unconscious, as instructed. As the officer slid to the deck, the mechanic reached for a spanner to swing at the intruder. Charlana already had her blaster drawn and fired. The Rodian also slumped to the floor like the officer, but much less alive. Well, not alive at all.

A quick study of the hyperdrive proved it was a model she knew. A carefully placed blaster bolt destroyed a replaceable component. The damage temporarily diabled the drive, but made it easy to repair once the Dawn had control.

"Hyperdrive disabled." Charlana reported "One officer captured in hypedrive chamber." Charlana pulled off the belt of the dead Rodian. then bound the unconscious officer with the leather strap. "Now don't run off on me blue boy. Mama Dawn will want to talk with you." Charlana smooshing his cheeks with hands. She took a fancy to the Chiss' hat and set it on her head. Then she slipped out to cause some chaos.

 

[Colton Renth]

Colton pushed himself out of the pilot's chair, boots thudding softly against the deck plating. He shrugged into a worn jacket hanging from the back of the seat and clipped his DL-44 heavy blaster pistol into its holster with a practiced motion.
Cargo first.
Then the job.
He moved through the narrow corridor toward the cargo hold, the familiar creaks of the freighter echoing around him. The ship smelled faintly of engine lubricant, recycled air, and the lingering spice from a shipment he'd run three systems ago.
When the cargo ramp lowered with a hydraulic hiss, the wind immediately pushed sand across the durasteel deck of the docking ring.
Waiting at the edge of the platform were three figures wrapped in dust cloaks.
They hadn't even bothered to hide their weapons.
Colton stopped halfway down the ramp, studying them.
Professional.
Quiet.
The kind of people who didn't waste time with introductions.
One of them stepped forward and tapped the side of a datapad. A holographic sigil flickered to life above the device.
A stylized crimson sun.
The mark of Crimson Dawn.
Colton's eyes narrowed slightly, but his expression stayed relaxed.
So the stories were true.
They were recruiting again.

​

Tobi Fett Charlana Sidonia Alora Vizsla

 

[Alora Vizsla]

The jetpack built in to Alora's custom suit flared to life as she dropped in on the freighter being secured. Her boots struck the platform, which rang out to announce her presence. One of her Pistols was lifted to mime a salute to those that stopped moving in their effort to deal with loaded and unloaded cargo alike.

The first one that ducked to the side to make a break for it got a splash of energy to the back. "Alright, everyone, let's stay clam. No one's gotta bite the bucket, but I need everyone to proceed in an orderly fashion..." Her helmet pivoted to the side before the other pistol pointed at a nearby shack. "There." They should be reassured seeing how the one she'd shot hadn't been vaporized. Alora could have came in disruptor-mode-first.

A few flicks of the pistol and their sudden guest moving around with her visor tracking them was enough to corral them in the right direction.

"Hey, you," Alora's synthesized voice called out behind one of the meaty ones, "pick up that guy and take him with you." No need for the unconscious body to be left out there for them to wake up and run off anyway. "Much appreciated."

With the door open, Alora's pistol chirped a second before she blasted the console in the small monitoring station. Disruptors didn't vaporize technology, but it left one hell of a hole. Also caused people to shout in complaint, which caused Alora to hold the other pistol vertically against her faceplate to tell them to be quiet. "Won't take long. Maybe." With that she shut the door and locked it from the outside.

Alora turned around and looked across the area. "Huh, where's the well-dressed one go anyway?" No one had seen any of that, had they? That figured.

Sidonia | Ashé Fenn | Charlana | Colton Renth | Tobi Fett​

 

[Sidonia]

O B J E C T I V E​

Tag: Ashé Fenn Charlana Alora Vizsla Colton Renth Tobi Fett​

​

Sidonia stood at the entrance to Docking Tower Three’s access corridor when the first blaster shots finally split the air.​

​

The sharp cracks echoed through the tower’s durasteel framework and rolled out across the desert port like distant thunder. For several seconds the sound bounced between the cargo cranes, landing pads, and stacked freight containers before fading into the rising wind that carried sand across the open structure.​

​

Below, the Diarch’s Hand had finally realized something was wrong.​

​

Her visor quietly cycled through the battlefield feeds as the situation unfolded beneath her. Crimson Dawn operatives were already moving through the outer perimeter, advancing between cargo haulers and lift platforms with deliberate speed. The Hand’s guards, meanwhile, were reacting rather than coordinating, scrambling into defensive positions that were forming too slowly to matter.​

​

The freighter at the center of it all sat darkened on the landing pad, its engines lifeless and its systems flickering under emergency power.​

​

Ashé’s work. “Engines confirmed offline,” Sidonia said over the encrypted Dawn channel, her voice steady and composed despite the chaos beginning to bloom around them. “Well done.”​

​

Movement near the loading ramp drew her attention next.​

​

One of the freighter’s crew burst from the vessel at a full sprint, panic clearly driving him faster than caution. He barely reached the bottom of the ramp before his footing betrayed him. The worn anti-slip plating caught the edge of his boot and sent him spinning sideways into one of the support struts with a brutal crack.​

​

His body folded to the sand below. Sidonia watched for a moment, her visor tilting slightly as the scene resolved itself. “Panic is spreading inside the vessel,” she noted calmly to the channel. “They know something is wrong, but they don’t know where it began.” Inside that freighter, the confusion would be multiplying with every passing second. Systems failing, corridors darkening, crew members shouting conflicting orders while trying to locate a problem they could not see.​

​

Ashé would already be moving through those spaces like smoke through a room.​

​

Charlana would not be far behind.​

​

Sidonia’s tactical overlay confirmed it a moment later when the starboard maintenance hatch flickered open briefly before sealing again. The half-Sephi’s infiltration marker appeared on the internal layout of the ship, steadily advancing deeper into the vessel’s narrow service corridors.​

​

Sidonia allowed herself the faintest approving nod. “Starboard maintenance access breached,” she transmitted. “Interior teams now have two entry points. Advance toward the bridge and cargo control.”​

​

The Diarch’s Hand still believed they were defending a ship. They had not yet realized they had already lost it. But the battlefield continued to grow more complicated. A fresh alert flickered across Sidonia’s visor as she shifted her attention upward through the skeletal frame of the tower. A descending heat signature. One armored figure dropping rapidly toward the freighter from high altitude.​

​

Sidonia watched the silhouette cut through the dusty sky for several seconds before speaking again.​

​

“We have another arrival,” she said over the channel. “Single armored individual descending from above the port. Likely deployed from a passing vessel.”​

​

Her tone remained calm, though the situation had clearly begun to attract attention. “Unknown intent. Do not engage unless necessary.” If the newcomer intended to interfere, they would reveal it soon enough. But the second complication had arrived before that. Sidonia’s gaze shifted back toward the interior corridor of Docking Tower Three. The docking clamps on Ring Seven had engaged minutes earlier. The light freighter attached there remained quiet, its emissions carefully suppressed, but the motion sensors within the tower were now registering movement approaching through the passageway.​

​

The pilot had left his ship.​

​

Sidonia remained where she stood at the mouth of the corridor, making no attempt to conceal her presence. The dim lights along the tower’s spine stretched down the hallway behind her, casting long shadows across the metal flooring as the desert wind howled through the open structure.​

​

When she spoke again, her voice was soft, almost like a hiss.​

​

“Captain Renth. You dock quietly. You slice carefully. You arrive at the exact moment a cargo freighter loses its engines and its crew begins running in circles.”​

​

A brief pause followed. “Professional timing.”​

​

Wind pushed a sheet of sand through the tower, scattering grains across the floor between them as Sidonia stepped forward into clearer view. “You came here expecting to rob the Diarch’s Hand,” she continued, her tone measured and almost conversational. “Instead you arrived in the middle of a Crimson Dawn acquisition.”​

​

Her helmet tilted slightly as if studying the unseen man down the corridor. “That means you now have a decision to make.”​

​

Behind her, another burst of blaster fire echoed across the landing pad as the fighting intensified near the cargo lifts. Crimson Dawn enforcers were pressing forward now, using the confusion to break the Hand’s defensive line before it could stabilize.​

​

Sidonia didn’t turn to look.​

​

She already knew how that part of the battle would end.​

​

“You can turn around,” she said simply. “Return to your ship, disengage the clamps, and leave this port with your hull intact.” She allowed the suggestion to settle for a moment.​

​

“Or,” she continued, “you can help finish what has already started and take a share of the cargo that brought you here in the first place. And if you are still considering stealing it from us instead…” For the first time, the faintest trace of amusement touched her voice. “…I would strongly recommend you reconsider that plan.” Her visor lifted briefly toward the sky again, where the descending armored figure was now approaching the freighter’s hull at dangerous speed.​

​

Then she looked back down the corridor. Sidonia placed one gauntleted hand against the wall beside her, blocking the narrow passage forward without ever raising a weapon. “Your move, Captain.” And over the Dawn’s internal channel, she added one final instruction as the battle inside the freighter continued to unfold. “Interior teams, report when the bridge is secured.”​

​

Then she waited for the smuggler in the tower to reveal himself and for the falling mercenary to land. And for the crew of the Diarch’s Hand to finally understand that the ship they were fighting for no longer belonged to them.​

​

​

​

 

[Colton Renth]

The tall smuggler rested one shoulder against the wall opposite Sidonia's outstretched arm, glancing past her toward the chaos spilling across the landing pad. Blasterfire painted the dust-filled air in brief flashes of red and blue. Somewhere below, another explosion rattled the tower structure.
Colton took it all in with a calm, assessing look.
Then his brown eyes returned to Sidonia's visor.
"Well," he said after a moment, "when I pictured robbing this freighter tonight… I'll admit the plan didn't include a full-scale syndicate takeover."
He tilted his head slightly toward the fighting outside.
"But I've learned something important about plans over the years."
His hand rested casually near the grip of his blaster, though he made no move to draw it.
"They rarely survive contact with reality."
The smuggler studied her stance — the calm posture, the confidence of someone who clearly knew how this operation would end. The way she blocked the corridor without even bothering to threaten him.
That told him plenty.
Crimson Dawn wasn't improvising.
They were executing.
Colton exhaled slowly through his nose.
"Now," he continued thoughtfully, "I could head back to my ship like you suggested."
He gestured vaguely toward the docking ring behind him.
"Fire up the engines, pretend I never saw any of this, and go back to chasing smaller scores across the Rim."
A faint grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"But if I've learned anything running cargo through half the crime networks in the galaxy…"
His gaze flicked briefly toward the descending armored figure outside the freighter.
"…it's that when Crimson Dawn shows up, something valuable is about to change hands."
Another blaster burst echoed from inside the ship.
Colton pushed off the wall and stepped a little closer, stopping just short of Sidonia's blocking arm.
"I didn't come all the way out here just to walk away empty-handed."
His tone was calm, almost conversational — but there was a deliberate weight behind the next words.
"And I definitely didn't come here to start a fight with the organization that's clearly about to win this one."
He raised both hands slightly, palms open in a gesture of easy surrender.
Not fear.
Just professionalism.
"So let's skip the part where we pretend I'm dumb enough to try stealing from you."
Colton's smile returned, thin but genuine.
"Instead," he said, nodding toward the freighter where Crimson Dawn forces were steadily overwhelming the defenders, "how about we talk about where a man with a fast ship, a flexible moral code, and excellent timing fits into your organization."
A beat passed.
"Because if Crimson Dawn is hiring…"
His eyes met Sidonia's visor directly.
"…Captain Colton Renth is very interested in the job."

​

Sidonia